


alternative games for similar players

by towokuwusatsuwu



Series: Kinktober 2018 [5]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Aftercare, Impact Play, Love/Hate, M/M, Masochism, Riding Crops, Rough Body Play, Sadism, Spanking, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: izaya trusts shizuo to hurt him like the way he wants.





	alternative games for similar players

The metal of the handcuffs dig into Orihara Izaya’s wrists as he strains against them, his shoulders aching from the prolonged position. The carpet beneath his knees is cheap and digs into his skin, and he can imagine the pattern left in his skin, turning soft pale skin into an ugly red raised pattern that would take hours to fade. Being on his knees also means he has to strain his neck to look upward at the man standing above him, the faint lights in the ceiling creating a halo-effect around his platinum blond hair. He looks like an angel from the waist up, the effect ruined by the torn denim jeans around his hips.

Usually, Heiwajima Shizuo is better dressed than this but he never dons anything close to his best for Izaya, always something disposable he wouldn’t mind losing if he had to. The thought that he isn’t even worth suitable clothing makes the pit of Izaya’s stomach ache, the insides of his thighs trembling with the effort of remaining in this position. He’d been sat here on the floor and left while Shizuo walked around the room, sliding his t-shirt off and preparing whatever it is he has in store. Izaya has stamina and patience but in a situation like this, all he wants to do is cut right to the chase and get what he wants.

Shizuo’s fingers slip beneath his chin, tilting his head back further until it strains his neck, the skin of his throat pulled taut until it stings. “You’ve been very quiet this evening.”

Izaya wets his lips. “I’ve been—”

Shizuo slaps him.

Izaya should be grateful. The slap is not even a tenth of Shizuo’s strength but it still snaps his head to the side, his skin hot from the impact. He can imagine the mark spreading across his skin the exactly shape of Shizuo’s hand, the imprints of his fingers left on Izaya’s skin. Before he can process a rough hand is on his jaw, twisting his head back around.

“Did I tell you to speak?” Shizuo’s voice is low and gruff, and Izaya had missed him crouching down until he was directly in front of Izaya, intimidating in this lighting, in his element. “Did I give you permission? No. Did you even ask for it? No. So  _ do not _ speak.”

A small nod is all Izaya can manage in answer, a slight throb between his legs belying just how much he enjoys the manhandling. Shizuo presses his fingers to Izaya’s cheek until it stings but Izaya holds still even as his hands quiver in the cuffs, wincing at the pain. Then Shizuo’s hand slides against his cheek, softer, cupping over the warmed skin.

“I’m used to you smarting off to me every time I turn around. This is surprisingly nice, having you shut the fuck up for a change.” Shizuo thumbs across his lower lip and Izaya has to resist the urge to nip him, too used to being bratty. “You won’t say a word unless I ask you a question directly. Do you understand that simple order?”

Izaya swallows thickly. “Yes, sir,” he says, his voice soft.

“Correct answer.” Shizuo’s hand slides up into his hair and he stands, flexing his fingers, pulling Izaya’s hair so that Izaya knows to follow him.

He struggles to stand without use of his hands and with the dull ache in his legs but he manages, stumbling slightly alongside Shizuo as he’s led over to the bed. Better than most he knows there is no way this is Shizuo’s personal bedroom and wonders where this apartment had come from— Shizuo would never invite Izaya into his home and a private room in a public building would draw attention to both of them. Before he can think too hard about it, Shizuo throws him down on the bed, a hand on his back pinning him to the mattress.

It’s maybe a risk to push someone like Shizuo, with his strength and the vulnerability of Izaya’s position, but he can’t help himself. The thrill of the danger is too much for him, threatening to choke him with desire. Shizuo kicks his legs apart and stands between them, and if Izaya wriggles just  _ right _ he can rub himself against Shizuo like a bitch in heat—

He tries and Shizuo’s hand comes down on his bare ass, startling a little cry out of him at the pain, the sudden and sharp sting of it. The hand on his back keeps him still while Shizuo delivers another handful of sharp slaps, Izaya’s feet kicking out at the air.

“You should know better than to misbehave.” Shizuo’s fingers ghost over his ass and then lower to where he’s already dripping from the pain, the lack of control. “You should know I’ll give you what you need if you earn it. Don’t push me, or you won’t receive anything.”

Izaya pants harshly against the bedding as Shizuo’s fingers pull apart the swollen folds of his cunt, and he’s only a little embarrassed about how needy he is so quickly. When they’re on the street all he wants to do is utilize every skill at his disposal to take this man down, rip his life apart again and force him to start again. But now he finds himself opening his thighs wider in invitation, fighting the urge to rut back against Shizuo’s fingers.

“You’re wet.” Shizuo’s fingers rub against his clit and Izaya bites back a moan, his eyelids fluttering. “Do you like it when I’m rough with you, Orihara?”

“Yes, sir.” Izaya’s face burns at the admission and he sucks in a harsh breath when Shizuo pinches his clit, the pain sharper here and it makes him burn inside and out.

Shizuo snorts. “I should have expected that from someone like you.” When he pulls his fingers away, Izaya has to fight the urge to beg for them back, the cool air of the room rolling over his hot skin. “You’ve made my fingers dirty. Clean them up.”

Before Izaya can figure out what he means, Shizuo’s fingers are pushed into his mouth and he should bite him just for that, but he doesn’t. He curls his tongue around Shizuo’s fingers obediently, sucking the salty warmth of his own wetness off of them. It’s almost humiliating to think that he’s being good for this beast of all people, but the intoxicating touch of Shizuo’s hand and the games they play together are too delicious for him to turn down like he should.

The position he’s in is precarious and when Shizuo walks away from him, Izaya can’t quite see where he’s gone, face half-buried in the bedding. The sound of his returning footsteps are the only warning Izaya has before Shizuo brings something down hard and sharp against his ass, a smaller but more focused pain than before and he yelps even as he pulses hotter and wetter. His brain puts the pieces together far more quickly; it’s a riding crop.

“You like pain, don’t you, Orihara?” Before Izaya can answer, Shizuo smacks him with the crop again, the leather slapping obscenely loud against his skin. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-yes, sir!” Izaya chokes on a small sound when Shizuo pushes the crop between his legs, dragging it along his slit before hitting him with it again, harder than the first time.

“That’s what I thought.” Shizuo punctuates every word with a strike until Izaya squirms from the sting, fighting the urge to grind against the sheets for any kind of friction. “That’s why you keep coming back to me. You want someone who can actually hurt you.”

There are more reasons than Izaya can really count but that’s the one that matters right now so he nods fitfully even as Shizuo picks up the pace of the strikes and lets them land a little harder. He can imagine the uneven red marks decorating his ass, the skin blooming a deeper and deeper pink each time. One particularly hard hit makes him cry out, jerking against the handcuffs until the chain rattles and strains, the metal digging into his wrists.

His wrists will bear the marks of this night probably longer than his ass does but he doesn’t care.

“You’re going to leave a spot on the carpet at this rate.” Shizuo palms his cunt and Izaya moans, his body shaking as he struggles not to push back into Shizuo’s touch.

It’s almost cruel the way Shizuo does this to him, stepping back to use the crop on him before his fingers return, probing Izaya until he feels like he’s going to scream with frustration and then drawing away once more. When the crop slips low and lands on his labia he  _ does _ scream, a quick little sound that Shizuo’s hand on his back quickly soothes.

“Was that too much?” There is surprising concern in Shizuo’s voice given who Izaya  _ is _ but he appreciates that Shizuo doesn’t want to go too far.

Here, it’s a game. And games are no fun if there are no rules.

“No, sir.” Izaya inhales slowly and spreads his legs wider, his thighs sore and feeling surprisingly vulnerable spread out like this. “You can do it again if you want to.”

He can feel the hesitation in Shizuo’s touch before it firms once more with his resolve. “If that’s what you want, then I can do that. Keep your legs open for me.”

Izaya’s breath hitches at the implication so much that he’s almost disappointed when Shizuo hits him on the ass again, biting his tongue to hold back his complaints. But a few more hits later and the crop lands on his cunt once more, a startling pain that jolts him out of his own thoughts. It’s an uneven thing and the number of hits is never the same and has no correlation and Izaya can feel his self-control threatening to slip through his fingers.

“Let me see how you’re doing.” Shizuo’s fingers pull his folds apart and Izaya shudders at the touch, chewing on his lower lip so hard he can taste the faint tang of copper on his tongue. “Ah, I wonder how you would handle that…”

Before Izaya can wonder what he means the riding crop hits him on the clit so hard his shrieks, back arching at the pain, the pleasure, a delicious twist through his entire body. He throbs slick and wet and moans in frustration when he has to force himself to relax, to come back down because he has to  _ ask _ if he can come before Shizuo will let him, and he hasn’t been given the chance to ask yet. When Shizuo hits him again he almost sobs.

When he feels ready to burst Shizuo seizes him by the hair, lifting his head off of the bedding. “Do you want to come, Orihara?”

Izaya blinks blearily at him before he realizes what Shizuo has asked him, tongue tripping over itself in an effort to answer faster. “Please, sir.”

“You were slow to answer.” Shizuo smirks at him. “Maybe you don’t want to.”

Izaya whines pitifully up at him, twisting his head to rub his cheek against Shizuo’s arm.

“Tell me.” Shizuo jostles him and Izaya looks at him again, pleading puppy eyes he hopes because he’s never had to do it for anyone before. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes, sir. Please, sir.” Izaya’s lips tremble, his breath hitching. “Please, may I come?”

Shizuo lets him go so abruptly he flops against the bedding. “That’s what I thought.”

It’s not the riding crop but Shizuo’s fingers that slide over his clit and then inside of him, pressing down against his spot as his thumb rubs over Izaya’s clit. It’s just enough to shatter him to his core, his legs jerking and shaking as he cries out against the bedding, riding Shizuo’s fingers for everything he’s worth. Shizuo works him through the orgasm until he’s swollen and sensitive and trying to squirm away, the touch too much now.

“You good?” Shizuo sits next to him on the bed, letting Izaya use his thigh as a pillow.

Izaya rubs his cheek against Shizuo’s jeans, unable to help himself. “S’good.”

“Take a breath.” Shizuo pets down the same cheek he’d slapped without hesitation and Izaya sighs at the touch, his eyelashes fluttering. “I’m going to take the handcuffs off now, and then I’ll get the ointment. You took that very well. Good job.”

Normally, Izaya would have snarked at him for praising him but now he just eats it up, letting Shizuo uncuff his wrists and then massage them and his shoulders to work the aches out of them. Shizuo’s touch is gentle on his sore ass, rubbing the ointment into his skin before retrieving the bag he’d brought with him, the one with chocolate and water and juice. They’d never let the world see them like this, Izaya curled content against Shizuo’s chest, letting himself be fed pieces of chocolate from Shizuo’s fingers, chasing the sweetness with tart orange.

“Thank you, Shizu-chan,” Izaya singsongs as he yawns, his head heavy on Shizuo’s chest, feeling more and comforted with Shizuo’s arms around him.

“You’re welcome.” Shizuo kisses the top of his head and Izaya purrs.

Shizuo might be the only one who knows how to hurt him the way he wants, but he’s also the only one who’s any good at making it feel better.


End file.
